Just Between Us
by Melancholy's Child
Summary: Modern. Technically a sequel to "Chandelier" but it's AU and not canon. Nadir is mourning his wife during yet another anniversary of her death. Erik and Christine help cheer him up.


**So, this oneshot takes place a few months after the end of "Chandelier," BUT it is entirely AU to that story. Like, not "Chandelier" canon. Frankly, this is a side plot that refused to leave my head, so here you go.  
**

 **You don't have to have read the other fic to understand this, but know at least that this AU takes place in modern times. This involves a threesome, so uh, if you're not comfortable with that, back out now!**

 **Finally, I blame everything on Wheel of Fish. It's her fault. All of it.**

* * *

 **Just Between Us**

Christine came home one evening to find Erik changing the sheets on the guest bed.

She had no idea why – the room hadn't been used since her first stay in their home beneath the Palais Garnier almost a year ago. Since their return last December, they had kept the bed covered in a white cloth to ward off the gritty dust that seemed to settle over anything unused in the cavern. Since they were splitting their time between here and the apartment, the less they had to upkeep, the better.

She set down her books and ducked inside the room to help. "Felt like fresh sheets?" she inquired, grabbing onto the opposite edge of the sheet to tuck it around the mattress.

Erik grunted in response. She loved seeing him act so domestic, and really, he did it all without any complaining. He must have been cleaning for a while. He was dressed in only black slacks and a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his sharp-pointed elbows, and patches of gray dust clung to his clothes.

Since they so rarely had visitors – and then, only Nadir – he had taken to leaving off his mask and wig whenever they were underground. After a moment, she realized he had caught her staring. Even after all this time, she wondered if he sometimes thought she might suddenly betray him and recoil in horror at his face. However, she had grown so used to the unusual dips and shapes of his appearance that she rarely noticed there _was_ any difference. Now, he stood gazing intently at her, his cat-yellow eyes narrowed and gleaming in the light. If it took another year, another decade, she would banish all doubts from those eyes.

She smiled gently and walked to his side, raising a hand to swipe away the patch of dirt on his chin. Then, seeking to reassure him, she cupped his face and swallowed the little distressed sound he made with a fierce kiss.

"I thought we decided not to Spring clean this room?" she asked as she drew back.

He tossed the pillow back onto the bed, huffing. "Daroga is coming to stay the night, and his delicate allergies would react to the dust."

She raised an eyebrow. "Nadir's spending the night? When?"

"Tonight."

This was new. Nadir lived only about ten minutes away, hardly a distance too far for him to go home after a visit. They often had him over for dinner either here or at the apartment, which had a better kitchen, or just went over to his place instead. He had never stayed overnight.

Erik was studying her face, probably trying to gauge her reaction.

"Oh?" She didn't really know what to do that wouldn't seem like shutting the idea down. She _liked_ Nadir, and of course she wanted to hang out with him. But it was a Tuesday – not exactly a weekend when staying up late with an old friend would be acceptable.

Of course, she had yet to find a job, or even make much _effort_ to find a job, so it's not like she had much to wake up early for tomorrow anyway.

She shrugged and helped him smooth out the edges of the comforter. "Do we need to make dinner?"

"No. He will come over afterward." Erik stuffed the dirty sheets into the bag they used for toting laundry. "Is there something you wish to eat?"

"We have leftovers, so I'm fine with that."

She followed him back into the main living area of their underground home, helping him as he straightened up the living room. Erik preferred to live rather immaculately, with everything having its own place. They didn't have a lot of space down here, so she didn't really mind. She stacked the compositions he was currently working on, careful to keep the sheets arranged the way he'd had them so she wouldn't mess anything up.

"I am going to choose wine and cheese. Join me?"

"Sure," she said, and followed him down a narrow passageway that headed away from the lair.

The caves worked as a sort of natural refrigerator at times, having the coolness of a basement encased in stone. Much of the cavern was too damp for adequate storage, but long ago, Erik had found this particular alcove and started using it for food and drink. He had amassed a rather impressive collection of wine.

She hung their lantern on a hook and went to dig through the cheese and fruit while he selected a couple of bottles of red wine. After she had finished filling a bag with her items, she waited for Erik, who had been glaring at the label on a bottle for the past few minutes.

"Erik, love," she said softly. "Are you okay?"

He cut his eyes at her. "Me? Perfectly fine. However, the label on this bottle of wine has faded too much for me to read if it is a 1975 or 1976. There was a big difference between the years, you see, and only one is the Daroga's favorite. _He_ would recognize the label."

"Why don't you let him pick it out himself when he shows up?"

"Because."

Oh, she recognized the stubborn set to his jaw now. Why was Erik acting so weird about Nadir's visit? "Well, then call him and ask."

Erik scoffed, but did as she suggested, fetching his phone from his inside coat pocket and punching in to call Nadir. Christine took the lantern off the hook and waited by the entrance patiently while Erik spoke to the older man. Finally, Erik tucked the phone away without even saying goodbye – normal behavior, for him – and grabbed two of a different kind of bottle before following her up the passageway.

Halfway back, Christine stopped abruptly, causing Erik's shoes to scrape against the stone behind her. She turned, holding the lantern up so she could see his face.

"Erik? I certainly don't mind Nadir coming for a visit, even an overnight one, but is there any reason for it? Did something happen?" Erik was being very precise in making sure Nadir would be comfortable, even down to his favorite wine. The Iranian's birthday had passed several months ago, so that wasn't it.

"Nothing gets by you, does it?" he murmured, but his words carried no heat. "I suppose it will come up one way or another tonight. Today is the anniversary of the death of his wife. Coincidentally, the birthday of his son as well, which you already know why."

She did. Nadir's wife, Rookheeya, had died giving birth to Reza. Last year, Nadir had given Christine the full story on his son and his progressive illness that eventually led to his death at a young age. However, Nadir had spoken little about his wife. All Christine really knew was that they had been madly in love, so much so that Nadir had waited years to be able to marry her until after she finished school.

"I suggest you not bring her up unless he does," Erik continued, shouldering past her to head the rest of the way up the path. "Instead, we will drink."

"Nadir will drink?" She knew the Iranian partook of little alcohol, and only then on special occasions.

"Until he passes out, I believe, which is why he should be here. The fool has never learned how to hold his liquor nor how to act when he inevitably doesn't."

Christine still had a bunch of questions, but she swallowed them back down. She had learned long ago that these two men would reveal their pasts in small increments to her, divvying them out like crumbs. If she pushed too hard, both of them tended to shut down. Well, she could play nice and go along with tonight the way they wanted. If Nadir needed his friends – and some wine – to get him through the rest of the night, she couldn't judge.

A bit more cleaning and setting up for the visit in the living room, and Erik headed off to pick up Nadir at the edge of the lake, grumbling that if he didn't go with the boat, Nadir would likely drip lake water all over his carpets. Christine finished up, pulling three chairs in a semicircle around the fire. Even though it was summer aboveground, the caves remained always cool and damp, and there wasn't any way to maintain temperature down here except by lighting a fire.

She knew she had at least half an hour before the men returned, so she took a quick bath and changed into a comfortable silk blouse with a long well-worn cardigan and her favorite jeans. She pinned up her damp hair so it wouldn't drip all over her shirt, then sat by the fire after setting out one of the bottles of wine along with a plate of macarons in soft green and yellow – Nadir's favorite.

Erik's voice wafted over to her before they walked into the small dwelling. He was being uncharacteristically chatty, discussing at length about the recent addition he and Christine had built beyond the back bedroom in an effort to give her an office and a working shower. Christine grinned to herself. Erik was obviously already trying to cheer Nadir up, or distract him. Despite all of his denial, he and the Daroga were the best of friends.

Erik and Nadir entered the living room. The Iranian was dressed in his usual brown suit with a plain brown tie, but he was absent his waistcoat and looking more casual than he might normally. He carried a simple overnight bag and his broad face was lined with heavy emotion. He smiled a little when he caught sight of Christine.

"Thank you so much for having me over tonight," he said as she crossed the room to him.

She gave him a hug. "Of course, Nadir. You're welcome anytime. Go put your bag in the guest room."

He nodded and headed to the spare room down the hallway. Christine caught Erik's eye. "That bad?" she whispered so Nadir wouldn't overhear.

"Always," Erik replied. He folded himself into one of the chairs by the fire and began pouring three glasses of wine. "Though with you here, maybe the evening will go better than usual."

"What's the usual?"

"Drinking himself into a stupor and crying all over my lair."

Christine made a face at that, but wisely held her tongue and sat opposite Erik. Nadir strode back into the room, immediately easing into the chair between the two of them and taking up a glass of wine. He had gulped down half of it before Christine had even reached for hers. Erik hadn't been exaggerating – Nadir really was here to drown out his sorrows.

Erik casually crossed one ankle over the other knee, legs long and lanky. He swirled his wine before taking a sip, staring into the fire.

Uh-oh, awkward. Christine rather quickly drank her first glass, trying not to stare at the two men and probably failing. Is this what they usually did every year on this day? Drink wine in silence? This was going to be the whole night?

So, in true Christine fashion, she started to babble a bit, telling Nadir about the jobs she had been interviewing for. He already knew most of this; it wasn't like they didn't see Nadir most weeks anyway. But she recapped her job-hunting adventures over the past few weeks, and when she finished with the position at a small theater across town, she lapsed back into silence.

"That's nice," Nadir said, and tipped his glass toward Erik for a refill. "I wish you the best, as always."

Erik obliged immediately, pouring for the other man. "It is not _nice_ ," he said, just this side of huffing. "She should be going to auditions instead of applying for _jobs_."

Nadir raised an eyebrow at her, and Christine hated the flush that came over her face. That first glass of wine was hitting her hard. When did she last eat? Oh yeah, hours ago. She grabbed a hunk of cheese and stuffed it into her mouth, ignoring Nadir's inquiring gaze.

"Despite what her maestro tells her," Erik continued, "my dearest still believes she needs more time."

Christine swallowed. "Practice. I need more _practice_. I just don't think I have enough experience yet."

"Shouldn't I be the best judge of this?"

"Says you." Here they went again with this argument. She gulped down the rest of her glass and poured herself another. Ignoring Erik's narrowed eyes, she took several large sips before piling up a few more crackers and cheese and settling back into her chair. The warmth of the wine was quickly spreading throughout her.

"I don't want to argue, Erik, especially in front of our guest."

"Daroga is not a guest." But he sipped on his own wine and appeared to let it go… for now.

Nadir found the right time to interject. "I suppose that is true, yes, old friend?" He leaned a bit Christine's way. "Erik has been letting me waste away my sorrows for the better part of eight years now, something about which I'm truly appreciative."

"I _am_ sorry about your loss," Christine said, feeling even more awkward. "I know we've spoken of your wife and son before, but-"

"No need," he interjected, his small smile softening his words. "I'm not here to talk about them. Really. Let us talk about other things, shall we?"

She nodded, and the two of them talked over the next hour, drinking the rest of the bottle and half of another, with Erik having another half glass himself at some point. The masked man didn't speak much, only interjecting his usual snide comments here and there, especially whenever Nadir made a statement at his expense.

The Iranian snatched up a couple of the macarons and settled back into his chair to eat them. Lulled in a moment of silence between the three of them, Christine curled up in her own chair and gazed across Nadir to Erik. Her husband was staring into the fire, expression serious, clearly deep in thought. If she didn't intervene soon, this night was sure to develop into even more weird silences until they all just went to bed.

These two men had been doing this sort of thing for years, so what had they done to pass the time on these nights?

Nadir finished his third macaron and brushed the crumbs from his beard and shirt. "Ah, these are delicious," he said. "I could eat the whole plate, but I know I would regret it."

Erik cut his yellow eyes at the other man. "Your belly would regret it."

Instead of retorting, Nadir ran a hand over the slight pooch of his midsection. "I suppose I've grown soft in our years after Iran. I could still best you in a battle of arms, however."

Erik snorted. "I doubt that. What have you needed to lift heavier than a book in a decade?"

Christine was sure her eyebrows were sky high. "Battle of arms?"

"Arm wrestling," Nadir explained. "I was quite good in my youth."

" _Youth_ being the word to consider," Erik said drily.

"Alas, my friend, but we are _both_ of an age now." He leaned forward, raising his right arm in an obvious taunting gesture. "As I stated, I doubt the results would be different."

"You beat me once."

"Twice, actually."

Erik's head tilted to the side, considering. "Ah, that time after we had just raced our horses across the desert. Yes, you beat me while I was exhausted. Go you."

"You two arm wrestled?" Christine said. "I can hardly believe it!"

The grin that spread across Nadir's face was the first true one he'd made since showing up that night. "Care to see if I can still beat you?"

"I would break your dainty wrist, old man."

Nadir's wrists were hardly dainty. In fact, his arms were much thicker than Erik's, but he only laughed. "I'm willing to take the risk. Indulge me."

Erik didn't reply, but he set aside his wine glass and stood. He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over his chair. Nadir mirrored his actions. Nadir and Christine followed him into the kitchen, where the two men sat opposite each other across the small kitchen table. As Christine took a spot between them, she watched as both men rolled up their shirtsleeves, revealing arms of such distinct physical differences. Erik's pale arms flexed with corded muscle, while Nadir's brown forearms were larger and dusted with black hair across the tops.

Both men placed their right elbows on the table, and their hands clasped each other in deliberate posturing. Erik's long bony fingers matched Nadir's broad palm.

"Ready, old man?" Erik asked dryly.

"Of course. Count, if you would, madam?"

Christine gave a gleeful laugh. "Sure." She counted down from five and shouted, "Fight!" like a wrestling announcer.

The forearms of both men instantly flexed, muscles tightening in stark definition as both hands tightened around each other. Jaws bulged from the strain, and the small table groaned under their weight, and both men rose into crouches, thighs tight with tension.

In the end, Nadir's stamina couldn't last as long. Gradually, Erik began to push his arm to the table. To Nadir's credit, he fought him the entire way until the back of his hand finally tapped the tabletop.

They let go of each other, straightening in their seats, both a little out of breath. Nadir's round cheeks were a bit red, but his face was still split in a happy grin. Christine congratulated Erik, giving him a quick peck on the lips. "My champion!"

"Hey, I'd say I held my own rather well after three glasses of wine," Nadir said.

Christine agreed, and went over to press her lips to his flushed cheek. "Now what, you two? And please don't tell me there's more wrestling. As much as I enjoyed watching that, though." And she had. She could feel a bit of a blush blossoming across her cheeks. She always loved to watch the way Erik moved, but Nadir wasn't unattractive either.

"What would you suggest, my dear?" Erik asked, folding his shirtsleeves back down. She wished he would leave them alone – she did so love his arms, scars and all.

Her head was a bit fuzzier at this point, so maybe that's why she blurted, "What do you normally do every year on this night?"

The look the two men exchanged was more weighted than she expected. The silence stretched out across the room.

When Nadir chose to reply, he stuttered on his first word. "F-forgive me, Erik. Perhaps I shouldn't have come here after all. Not after everything that has happened, not after you have found your match in marriage."

"There is nothing to forgive," Erik replied. His golden eyes shimmered in the dim light of the candelabra.

Christine looked at both of them, not understanding. "Forgive what?" When Nadir rose, she did as well in alarm. "You're not leaving, are you?"

"That is probably best," he said, still locking gazes with Erik. "I am but a lonely man, and I fear the wine in combination with this date will do regrettable things to my head should I stay." As he moved to go to the spare bedroom, no doubt to get his overnight bag that he had stashed there, she darted in front of him to block his path.

A moment ago, they had been having fun, more relaxed than they had been since the three of them had enjoyed champagne and wedding cake in a limo. Now he was going to leave?

Christine put her hands on her hips, a little unsteady on her feet after moving so quickly. "I demand you tell me what's going on!"

She didn't notice that Erik had silently come up behind her until his fingers curled over her shoulders. She craned her head back to look up at him, but again, his eyes weren't focused on her, but rather on Nadir. Lulled into silence, she watched as Nadir sighed and headed into the bedroom.

"I don't understand," she said.

One of his bony hands came up to cup her cheek. "I should have told you," Erik murmured.

"Told me what?"

Those nimble fingers slid into her hair, scratching a bit at her scalp in that way she liked. She closed her eyes and leaned into the familiar touch.

"What typically happens on this worst of nights." He visibly hesitated, and his grip tightened. "Shall I show you, Christine? You could take it, couldn't you? You, who are so strong, so beautiful. Yes, Christine? You could tell me no, at any time. Tell me no and I would stop, yes?"

His words weren't quite making sense to her alcohol-addled brain. How much had _he_ had? Not near as much as she and Nadir, she thought. But she didn't miss the bit of plea in his silken voice, and so she took his hand from her hair and gave it a squeeze.

"Show me?" she asked.

His throat bobbled as he swallowed. "All right." He took her hand and led her to the spare bedroom just as Nadir emerged from the bathroom, his face damp as though he had just splashed water on it.

The older man paused for a moment, then grasped his bag by the handle from where it was sitting on the bed. "Thank you for the hors d'oeuvres and wine, both of you. Time enough for me to go."

Christine came to his side and pressed her hand on the top of his bag, holding it to the bed. "You've had way too much to drink tonight."

"I can take a cab."

"Please, Nadir, if we did anything to upset you-"

"I am not upset!" he said, too quickly, too loudly. Christine was startled by the sudden sheen to his eyes and the desperate look he shot Erik from over her shoulder. "I should leave."

Still silent, Erik crossed over to the two of them and with slow deliberateness, grasped the handle of the bag, his fingers overlapping with Nadir's.

Nadir sucked in a breath. His own grip loosened as he allowed Erik to take his bag from him and set it near the wall. Nadir sat heavily upon the edge of the bed and cradled his head in his hands. His shoulders began to shudder, and Christine realized what he was doing, and a lump formed in her own throat.

Spellbound, she watched as Erik strode in front of the other man and laid his hands on his shoulders, the touch slow and deliberate. Nadir's shaking eased, though he didn't move beyond that. Erik swept his hands down the man's shoulders, to his upper arms and back up again, to his neck above his shirt collar, over his thick brown hair a little salted with gray.

Once Nadir had composed himself and wiped his face on a handkerchief, he spoke, voice thick. "The months have softened your touch, friend."

"Only by practice," Erik replied.

Nadir shook his head. "I couldn't do this to you both, ask this of you. Circumstances are different now that you're together."

"Anytime she asks us to stop, we shall." Erik's glowing eyes alighted on Christine. "You will do that, dearest?"

She could only nod. At that, Nadir murmured, "Allah help me" under his breath and slid his arms around Erik's waist, pressing his face to the other man's stomach. Christine was sure her eyes were wide as saucers, but she didn't make a noise. When Nadir's shoulders began to shake anew, she came closer and put her own arms around him. His spicy cologne wafted up to her, his body warm against hers. Erik's stare burned into the top of her head.

She was beginning to understand what Erik had meant by what typically happened on the anniversary of Rookheeya's death. Why he had insisted on asking permission of her. Why Nadir had referred to their relationship. She fought to keep her breathing steady. She had no idea how she felt, the alcohol making her head swim, but when Erik began to tug at Nadir's tie, she was the one who undid the top button of his shirt.

The tie landed somewhere behind them, and Christine had Nadir's shirt unbuttoned down his chest before his broad hands enclosed her own, stilling her.

"You don't have to do this," he said softly.

But she wanted to, she truly did. She couldn't answer for a moment. Nadir's palm encased one of her cheeks, his skin calloused against her skin. She turned her head and kissed his palm.

Erik moved to dim the lights in the room, pulling off his own tie while he did. "Christine?" he inquired, her name weighty with question.

"I'm staying," she said, finding her voice. "Just… guide me?"

Without replying, Erik came to stand behind her. Long arms came around her from behind and enfolded her in a strong, possessive grasp. She gasped when she felt cool lips press their way along her neck. Nimble fingers slid her cardigan down her arms, leaving her in her silky top. She trusted Erik not to remove her shirt, trusted him to know she wouldn't be willing to expose her scars to anyone but him.

His hands never sought that bit of clothing, but they did stray to her pants, slipping between the hem of her shirt and the waistband of her pants to splay across her stomach. His other hand tilted her head back toward him so he could run his lips across her jaw, nipping gently at the tender skin there.

All the while, Nadir watched, unbuttoning his own shirt the rest of the way and taking it off fully. Christine glanced at him, his dark skin a lovely contrast to their own. He was broad in every way that Erik wasn't, his shoulders wide and strong, his arms still bearing the strength of his youth without the stark definition he likely used to have. Black hair gathered in the center of his chest and spread outward, then ran in a swift trail to disappear into his waistband.

Christine swallowed and lost herself for a moment in Erik's embrace as he turned her enough to fully capture his mouth with her own. She felt Nadir rise behind her, felt the warm of him at her back, and his hands settled at her waist, his thumbs sliding along the skin there in a questioning motion.

She whimpered into Erik's mouth as he delved in his tongue, lashing against hers as Nadir's calloused fingers stroked the skin just under her top. Her husband before her was tall, towering over them both, but Nadir wasn't a short man by any means. When Erik pulled back for a moment, their eyes met, and it was easy for Erik to bend over her to press his closed lips to Nadir's in welcome.

Christine felt a thrill run over her, and she shivered.

And then she was turning in Erik's arms once again, facing Nadir, and giving him her own quick kiss, shyly closed-mouthed. His hands roamed about her waist and back, touching and exploring while still remaining respectful. It was Erik's fingers that deftly flicked open the button of her pants and dragged her zipper downward, his lips at her ear that whispered, "You only have to say no once."

But she didn't want to say no, and so she didn't, only bit the edge of her bottom lip and stopped when Nadir pressed his lips to the edge of her lips again, and she parted them to let him kiss her more fully. His lips were full and soft against hers, so different from Erik's firm pressure. Erik opened the front of her pants and tugged the waistband around her hips, giving his hand room to delve inside, cupping the apex of her thighs.

She bucked against his hand, and Nadir's fingers on her hip clenched, his other hand grasping the shirt of the man behind her. Erik flattened his fingers against her atop her underwear, rocking against her, and she was overwhelmed for a moment with the sensation of the two men pressed around her, their own arousals quickly becoming evident.

Christine put her palms against Nadir's chest, lightly scratching with her fingernails. His rougher skin was such a contrast to Erik's, the hair prickly but not unpleasant under her touch. Nadir huffed a ragged breath in response.

"The bed," he rasped.

Oh. Right.

Erik pushed at her pants, sliding them down her thighs, down her knees, until she could step out of them. He gently nudged her forward, and she took Nadir's proffered hand, letting him guide her to the bed and position her to lay back upon it. She gazed up at him, his brown eyes shining warmly, and her lips curled upward as he knelt beside her on the bed.

For a while, they just touched, learning the shapes of each other's bodies. Nadir stayed away from her chest, and she was relieved she didn't have to ask him to. She admired his powerful arms and taut stomach covered by a small amount of pliable flesh; he was so male and yet so in opposition to her husband. Beyond the bed, Erik leaned against the dresser, watching them intently, his eyes two glowing flames in the low light.

Finally, Nadir bent to rest on one elbow and kiss her neck, while one of his hands drifted to her underwear. She reciprocated, letting her own hands trace the shape of him in his trousers, eliciting a groan from the Iranian.

"May I?" he murmured, and at her nod, he slipped two fingers into the edge of her underwear, and she gasped at the warmth that flooded her. As his fingers began to explore, began to slide against her awaiting slickness and between the folds of her tender skin, began to dip inside, she marveled at the thickness of his fingers, the hotness of his skin that was so different from Erik's ever cool touches.

His breath tickled her neck as he spoke. "Ah, so long since I have touched a woman. I would like to give you pleasure, Christine."

She breathed a laugh at his formality. "Only if I can do the same."

" _That_ I would no doubt enjoy."

And so she took him in her hands through his pants, stroking him tentatively, seeking out his shape. As she did so, his fingers continued to touch and press against her, the two delving thickly into her core, stretching her in a way that curled her toes. She loved Erik's spindly fingers, loved the expert motions of his touch, and Nadir was so different from that, using his girth to fill her up, the calloused pads of his fingers rubbing against upper wall of her, sending sparks dancing across her vision.

She didn't want to consider how he knew how to please a woman, and so she pushed such thoughts to the side. She unbuttoned his pants, drawing down his zipper; he paused for a moment to tug free his pants and toss them off the bed. He wore silky boxers, obviously coming prepared for _something_ , and it was easy for her to now caress the length of him through the thin fabric. He was shorter than Erik but maybe slightly thicker. For a brief moment, her thoughts spun into a fantasy about what he might feel like deep inside her, but she shook it away. She couldn't do _that_ , didn't want to give that part of her up, but she could still return the touches he gave her.

She thumbed the head of his shaft, marveled at the heat that radiated from him here, and he groaned again in response, deeper voice rumbling over her.

"This," he whispered, "I never expected _this_."

Oh Nadir. She leaned up to draw him into a kiss, spurring his fingers in great motions deep inside her. She knew she was soaking his thick digits, his fingers so strong and growing more insistent. With her other hand, she hung onto the large curve of his brown shoulder.

From behind him, Erik appeared, his eyes twin beacons that alighted only on her. Although he laid a long-fingered hand on Nadir's lower back, his gaze was just for her, and the look they shared in that moment was profound. She tilted her head back, letting Nadir kiss his way across her collar bone, and she could feel Erik shifting on the bed.

"Daroga," he said softly.

Nadir paused a moment, his own eyes sliding closed. "Would you? Erik? I… I need."

"Quiet, old man," said Erik without heat.

Christine couldn't see quite what was going on over Nadir's shoulder, but she felt the shifting of the two men. Erik's pale hands roamed over Nadir's back and shoulders, flitting over smooth muscle and quivering flesh; Christine recognized what he was doing – trying to relax the other man with his embrace. Then those hands drifted lower, cupping the firmness of the Iranian's backside.

Nadir's fingers twitched within her. She saw Erik tug Nadir's boxes downward, and he sprung free in her hand. Her eyes widened. He was indeed thicker than even she had expected, and she struggled to take him fully in her slender palms. She ran the heel of her palm across the head and moisture slickened her way.

Nadir was murmuring, alternating between their names, eyes still closed. Whatever Erik did behind him caused a shudder to rip through his frame, and Christine soothed him with soft kisses and caresses up and down his length.

Erik rested a small bottle of something on the bed next to them, and she realized that it was the rose-scented massage oil they sometimes used. Erik uncapped the bottle and offered it to her; she let him pour a little into her palm before he coated three fingers of his own hand. She wrapped both hands around Nadir and began to stroke up and down with an easy slick-slide that entranced her and wrenched low moans from his throat.

She could only imagine what Erik was doing behind him, his long fingers finding secret places, searching for what Nadir was willing to give. She knew well what Erik's intentions felt like, the insistent push of his fingertips, the strength in those lean digits. Nadir's weight leaned more heavily atop her as Erik form-fitted the length of his body against Nadir's back, Nadir's elbow digging into the mattress at her side saving her from being crushed.

Nadir grunted, face scrunching up a moment, and Christine stroked him again to help ease the discomfort. Erik's face was closer now, his mask gleaming in the candlelight, and his intense stare was almost too much for her, the way he captured her gaze and refused to let go.

The three of them seemed to hold their breath for an age.

Then Erik began to move and Nadir's fingers began to flex once again, and Christine squirmed, wrapping both hands around the Iranian's length again and matching their pace. For a long moment, the two men pulsed above her, their hips bucking in rhythmic motions.

She saw one of Erik's hands snake around Nadir's hips and wrap around the hand that was working against her center. And then it was Erik's fingers joining Nadir's, his familiar, cool touch against the nub that ached, the dichotomy of different dances within and around her that finally sent her over the edge.

And then Erik's hand gently batted hers away, leaving her to shudder and pulse around Nadir's thick fingers, while he took Nadir within his palm and stroked with careful, measured precision. She could do little but cling to the hard muscles of Nadir's arms as he drew out the last of her pleasure. Quickly after Erik grasped him, Nadir came against her hip in a rush of hot fluid, his warm body shuddering above her. For a moment, only the slap of Erik's hips and their twin harsh breaths met her ears, and then the masked man followed them soon after.

The two men collapsed next to her, Nadir in disarray, Erik quickly zipping up his pants before stretching out. The room spun a little bit, the wine heavy within her belly. Sated, and more than a bit tipsy, she gave into the urge to sleep that was dragging her eyes closed. Someone had enough presence of mind to drag the blankets over them – Erik, maybe, who also slipped out to bring everyone a glass of water.

Soon, he dosed the candles. He smoothed the hair from her eyes, pressed a kiss to her lips, and returned to the other side of the bed so Nadir lay between them. Her thoughts about what had just happened spun out into the darkness of the room, fading for now as she fell asleep.

* * *

A testament to the quality of the wine, and the ibuprofen she was sure Erik had slipped her during the night, Christine woke with only a small headache. She was warm, much warmer than she might normally be sleeping next to Erik. A slumbering Nadir faced her, his kind face even gentler at rest, and one of his arms was tentatively laid across her waist.

Erik was already awake at Nadir's other side. To no surprise of hers, he had slept in his mask and his clothes. Easing from under the Iranian's arm, she gathered up her pants and made her way to the bathroom off the master bedroom. She wasn't sure if Erik was going to follow, but she had heard the bed stirring.

Their new shower still took a while to heat up properly and gain enough water pressure, but she was patient as she brushed her teeth and undressed in the bathroom, then laid out fresh clothes on the bed. Soon, the small room began to fill with steam as the water heated, and she slipped beneath the steady stream, relishing the feel on her tired skin. She didn't often sleep in her padded bra anymore, and her scars loved the hot, soothing water.

After washing her hair, she just stood there, enjoying the moment. Soon, she felt a blast of cooler air as the door to the shower opened and closed. Erik's lips pressed against the top of one of her shoulders, and she smiled to herself, eyes closed under the spray of the water. He moved behind her, and his hands, slick with her favorite soap, began to glide over her body, washing her in ways not entirely innocent.

She sighed and leaned against the naked line of his body as his hands, his talented musician hands, explored lightly over her throat, her chest, her belly, before washing the soft folds between her legs, still a bit tender from all the attention last night. When she winced a bit, he withdrew with an apologetic nip at her shoulder.

He twisted her around to face him. One long finger along with his thumb grasped her chin and tilted her face upward. For a while, he gazed down at her, and she up at him, at his unmasked face and bare scalp, at the husband she loved so dearly.

Then he spoke, voice soft, "Has this changed anything?"

She couldn't help it – she barked a short laugh. "Of course it has!"

He frowned at that. "I-"

She shushed him with a finger upon his lips. "I can't simply forget what happened, and I don't expect you to either."

He shook off her finger. "I have before."

"You two have done this before?"

His eyes jerked away at that. "Not… so much. But mutual pleasure, yes. However, in the morning, we return to-"

"Normal," she cut him off gently. She hated the pained look he gave, so she reached up and cupped both sides of his face. "My love, you're still my husband, and I'm still your wife. Please don't worry that I'm going to suddenly want Nadir. _You_ are the one I chose, and that hasn't changed. Will he really go back to acting like nothing happened today?"

"Likely." He drew her to him, and she gasped at the feel of his naked body against hers. If they didn't still have a guest, she might have seduced him right there in the shower. However, they shouldn't linger.

Reluctantly, she moved back. "Can I wash you?" And that helped to banish some of the darkness from his eyes.

When they both returned to the guest room, Nadir was sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed in clean clothes. He looked tired and a bit hungover, but the smile he gave both of them was genuine.

He stood, grabbing his bag. "There you are. I wanted to say thank you before I took my leave."

"So soon?" Christine asked. "Do you want breakfast first? I could cook up some eggs."

He shook his head. "A raincheck, please. I must be going."

Christine felt like this parting was too rushed, too sudden, but Nadir's gait as he walked to the front door was quick and light, and his face was no longer lined with such severe sorrow. He seemed very much back to his usual cheery self, and Christine's worry that there would be any lingering strangeness began to ease.

He paused at the door and shrugged into his coat. "I thank you again, sincerely. I truly do." For a moment, he looked at them both, brown eyes warm. "I'm lucky to have friends such as you." The hug he gave her was tighter than usual, and when he clasped hands with Erik, they lingered just a little bit longer.

And then he was gone, and Christine shut the door behind him, letting loose a long sigh of relief.

As soon as she turned around, Erik was upon her, enfolding her in his long arms, mouth crashing down upon hers with bruising force. His tongue nudged her lips apart insistently and plunged inside to clash with hers, the lashes of his tongue desperate and searching. She gave in, wrapping her arms around his neck and letting herself get swept away.

They parted enough for her to curl her lips upwards. "Do you need to reclaim me as your own, beloved?"

The growl that rose within his chest was enough of an answer. It was a long time before they got out of bed again.

 **Fin.**


End file.
